Tortured Soul Page 12

  “I didn’t do much in the way of decorating. I thought I would leave that to you. Larz has a room right across the hall.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion and B must have noticed.

  “Larz won’t leave your side. He’s like your very own personal shadow, a gift from Braiden,” she said in an almost a sarcastic tone. “Larz will stay when Braiden leaves,” she went on, obviously not noticing my growing panic.

  My heart thumped hard and my breathing came in gasps as I swung around and stormed out of the room. B was hot on my heels. She was speaking, but I didn’t hear her. When Shakhta saw me, he pushed off the counter, all signs of his casual stance gone.

  “Em?” he asked, concerned.

  “You’re leaving, Shakhta?” I whispered, hating the tears that were beginning to gather in my eyes.

  Shakhta seemed to give my sister an irritated glance before giving me his full attention. “Em, I have to leave for a short time. Jonas is still out there which means you are still in danger. I have to take away that threat so you can live in peace.”

  I shook my head violently. “Don’t give me away, please don’t give me away. I promise I will do better. I’ll do anything you ask, and I won’t complain. I’ll behave.” I was rambling hysterically. Shakhta went to touch me and I fell to my knees into perfect submissive compliance. I was sobbing now, tears falling into my lap. “Please don’t give me away,” I whispered over and over again.

  Shakhta knelt before me and placed his big warm hands on my wet cheeks. “Malen’kaya,” he whispered. I lifted my watery gaze to his. He looked to be in just as much pain as I was. “You need to do this. You need to take your life back and that means no master.”

  A sob hitched in my throat. “I can’t.”

  Shakhta’s eyes turned into that cold detachment I had glimpsed intermittently over the last few days. “You can and you will.” His voice held a command, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to disobey.

  “Please don’t leave me,” I begged.

  Shakhta’s eyes closed as he pressed his lips against my forehead in an angry but careful kiss. When he pulled away, I saw a look that frightened me.

  “You will stay with Rebecca and Charlie. Larz will always be with you. They can contact me if need arises, but otherwise you will have no communication with me. You don’t need me, Emily, you do not need a master. I am no good for you, and you unfortunately are no good for me.” He stood and walked towards the front door.

  “No, no, no, no, no.” I breathed over and over again, tears dripping, sobs falling from my lips. When he walked out the front door and closed it behind him, it felt like my world had just shattered. It hurt when Master Jonas threw me away, but he was evil. Shakhta had been kind, caring. He had made me promises, and now he was throwing me away, too, and it hurt like nothing I had ever felt before. My heart split in two and I clutched my knees sobbing loudly.

  “Come on, Em.” Big hands pulled me up and lifted me. I struggled for a moment, not wanting to be touched, not wanting to taint whoever’s arms I was caught in. “Settle down, Em, you don’t have to fear my touch. My soul carries more sin than the average man should carry, just like Braiden.” It was Larz. I was captured against his massive chest as he walked me down the hall. He gently placed me on the bed. “She’s in shock, could you bring her the juice; the sugar will help.”

  I’m not sure who he was speaking to, but I didn’t care. My world had just crumbled and I wanted to be buried under its rubble where I wouldn’t feel anything ever again.

  “It’s going to be alright, Em. You’ll be mad at him for a while, but you’ll come to realize it was for the best.”

  I shook my head defiantly, the tears still wet on my cheeks. I reached blindly for the soft red blanket on the end of the bed, and Larz helped spread it over me. With limbs shaking, my face wet from tears, my heart aching, I closed my eyes and prayed something would steal me away from this world, from this pain. I was so tired of things hurting me. I was damaged beyond repair and everyone here wanted to fix me. You can’t fix the unfixable, Master Jonas had told me until it was etched into my mind. The only person who understood me and could give me what I needed had just thrown me away. Larz was wrong. I wasn’t mad at Shakhta. I hated him. I could never forgive him for this. I would never see his abandonment as a gift.

  CHAPTER 12

  BRAIDEN

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  I ran my hands through my wet hair, digging my fingers into my scalp in an attempt to relieve the pounding inside my head. I couldn’t remember a time when I had felt so damn tired. I looked around my room, forcing myself to see my things and allowing the realization that I was back home to settle in and calm me. I had been hunting for six months and returned home without success. I had pushed hard and wide in an attempt to find Jonas Levier, but the fucker had disappeared off the face of the earth. Not even Alexander’s contacts could locate the slippery son-of-a-bitch. Bomber and Gabbie had remained stoically at my side the entire time. I had tried to send them home several times, but they refused. They too had become personally invested in seeing Jonas Levier buried. Our hunt had taken us to places that I wish I could vanquish from my memories. We had seen girls, some just barely living, some dead, all at the hands of Jonas Levier. The man was a monster and Emily had survived seven years under his rule. I had come to wonder how she had done it, how she had made it out alive. It basically came down to strength. The last time I had seen that battered girl she had been on the floor of her sister’s house, sobbing. That memory played on repeat in my mind, as if stuck on a loop. It was there when I opened my eyes in the morning and when I closed them at night. Emily’s pain and sorrow was what kept me going. On the days when it got to be too much, when the hunt seemed too hard, I just had to remember that moment when I left Emily with her sister. When she begged for my control and command, I wanted nothing more than to give it to her. It was that moment that forced the anger back into my veins, and I would be ready to hunt again. Unfortunately, while my body and mind was now willing, the trail had gone cold. Jonas Levier must have been a magician, because he had vanished without a trace. I had to admit defeat, for now. It was time to retreat and regroup. It would only be a matter of time before he slipped up and then he had better kiss his ass goodbye. I was going to kill that motherfucker. A knock on my open door brought my attention away from thoughts of the scumbag and back to the present. Dillon leaned against the door. He too looked tired. We had all invested a great deal of time and effort into finding Jonas and keeping Emily and Rebecca safe.

  “How about an all-day breakfast at The Pit Stop?”

  My stomach growled as if on command. Benny’s greasy, heart stopping breakfast, which was served at any time of the day or night, was not only a pleasure to eat, but an honor. I nodded and stood, grabbing my oldest and most comfortable jeans off the bed. As I went to drop the towel, I turned to Dillon. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, his eyes set on the window behind me. He’d seemed a little out of it since I’d been back, but I hadn’t pried. If he had a problem that he needed help with, he would ask. And, to be honest, I wasn’t big on sharing feelings and stuff. I don’t know if that was a male thing or a me thing. Either way, I wasn’t going to be having a heart to heart with my cousin anytime soon.

  “You just going to stand there and watch me dress?”

  That brought Dillon back to present and he scowled. “You’re the one with the bedroom kink, not me.” Dillon disappeared back down the hall and I pulled my jeans on.

  My bedroom kinks had been placed on temporary vacation. I had indulged in a one night stand during a moment of anger and booze induced insanity two months ago, but it had been unfulfilling to say the least. My mind and thoughts were constantly on finding my target and a battered, blue eyed angel. I hadn’t seen nor spoken to Emily since the day I turned my back on her and left her in the hands of Rebecca, Charlie, and Larz. I kept in touch with her progress though. Three weeks after I left, Emily had been sent to a
private psychiatric facility in Florida. Larz didn’t go into detail, but I didn’t miss the pain in his voice when he told me about it. Having Emily committed had been hard. She had been terrified and felt betrayed by not only me, but Rebecca and Charlie as well. Larz remained with her during the entire ordeal though, and I can’t deny that it made me more than a little resentful. I wanted to be the one who helped her, who held her when she cried, and silenced the demons that followed her night and day. I had done the right thing though. If I had stayed, Emily would have clung to my dominance like a drowning woman. She needed to break free; she needed to find her own mind again. I also knew, without a doubt, I would have never been able to keep my hands to myself.

  I had Dillon find the facility Emily had stayed in, and I had paid for it. Enough cash made sure Larz was able to stay in the family quarters that would normally only be used for weekends and occasional visits. Larz stayed the entire four months Emily was there. She had been home in Claymont for five weeks now, and from all accounts she was getting by, nothing more, nothing less. She was helping out at Mercy’s Shelter for Abused Women a couple of days a week. Apparently she found solace in helping the other women in the shelter. Her words were few and far between. The only person who she had confided in so far was Larz and surprisingly Eli. Larz had called me with all the pride a father might experience when he caught Emily’s allusive smile two weeks ago. She had been with Annie’s boy, Eli. The seven-year-old, with his unfiltered mouth, had apparently managed to do the impossible—he had broken down one of Emily’s tallest and strongest walls. It seemed Em had a penchant for gaming and Eli was the perfect teacher. Not only was he teaching her to race cars and swing a magical sword, he was teaching her how to smile and have fun. Larz explained how Emily’s reluctance with skin contact wasn’t quite as bad as it had been, but it was still there. Her belief that her touch would ‘taint’ others with her sin had lessened, but being touched made her nervous in other ways now. While everyone tiptoed around her, hesitant to touch her or upset her, I felt compelled to do the opposite. Emily needed the reassurance that being touched didn’t have to equate to pain. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be the one to expose her to this sort of touch, as much as I would have relished the challenge. Emily apparently knew how to hold a grudge. She was still spitting mad that I had left her. I thought she might eventually see the wisdom in my decision, but apparently the stubborn gene ran strong in the Donovan sisters. As much as I wanted to see Em, to hold her, to give her the gentle touch she deserved, I wouldn’t. She was angry and I had to admit, the thought of that little wild cat fuming mad made me a little happy. Anger I could deal with, a numb state of shock and desolation would have broken my heart. Her anger was good; she would need that strength to keep defeating the demons of her past.

  Dillon tossed me my keys when we got to the garage, and I smiled wickedly in the direction of my shiny, black Corvette.

  “Where’s the Chevy?” I asked.

  “Jaxon borrowed it. Ella banged up her Honda, again, and his car is being serviced. He had a job to quote on out of town.”

  “Why didn’t he take the Lexus?” I nodded towards the dark grey SUV.

  Dillon chuckled. “He wants to buy a muscle car and Ella said he couldn’t until he got her a cat, so he’s hoping to woo her with my awesome Chevy.”

  “Why doesn’t he just buy her a cat?”

  “He’s allergic.”

  Huh, I thought. Couldn’t they compromise and buy a dog? The whole situation was full of complex and confusing couple’s law, known only to those who were a couple. Since I was a bachelor with no such ties, I dropped the entire last five minutes of conversation from my thoughts and started the Corvette. The thundering hum of the engine purred through my veins. I loved my car. I loved fast things and the Corvette was pretty fucking fast. I pulled out of the garage and drove slowly down the long concrete drive. As soon as the tires hit the asphalt, I gave the accelerator a gentle tap and the car leapt to life. That was all it took, just a slight press on the pedal and the Corvette Stingray was eating up miles. I slowed marginally for the corners and made my way out of the flashy estate. As soon as I hit the highway, I let my beauty fly. A discreet glance out the corner of my eye saw Dillon’s all too calm face. Not fast enough then. One hundred miles per hour and Dillon still looked composed. The forest on either side flew by in an unseen blur as I headed for town. It was only a twenty minute drive into town, but at this rate we would easily cut that time in half.

  As the speedometer pushed closer to one hundred and fifty miles per hour, Dillon began to fidget nervously. I laughed.

  “Asshole,” he murmured. As the city came into view I backed off and brought the car back to a responsible speed. Benny’s was on this side of town, only a handful of blocks from Mercy’s Shelter for Abused Women. I wondered if Emily was working today. Deciding I wasn’t quite ready to start probing Dillon for information on her, I shut down that train of thought and watched the streets with the same studious observation I unconsciously invested in my everyday life. It wasn’t as if I were expecting trouble, it was just better to be prepared. I learned a long time ago it took very little effort to take in your surroundings. It was more than just looking. It was looking and really seeing, taking a mental catalogue of everything. Simple things like watching the behavior and activities of the people around you. Taking note of things that didn’t belong, like expensive flashy cars in a blue collar small town. Like a 2014 Corvette Stingray in Claymont, for example.

  I grinned. Claymont was not where I expected to end up, but I had quickly grown to like the place. Dillon and I had started our security firm in Atlanta, opening our second office here. We had since closed the Atlanta division and made Claymont our home base. We had a team of six now working for us, Gabbie, Bomber and Larz being part of that equation, as well as Drew, Parker and Samuel. Drew and Parker were originally part of the five men loaned to us by Alexander to watch Rebecca, Charlie and their friends. My stepfather’s men had left as soon as my team and I were back in Claymont. All except Drew and Parker were gone. They had fulfilled their contracts with Alexander and decided it was time to move on. I was surprised that moving on meant taking positions with Montgomery Securities in Claymont. I guess they saw the same peaceful qualities in the town that I did.

  Drew was a big bastard, almost as tall as Jaxon Carter, an easy six foot three. He was wide and muscular, his head was shaved, and he had an ugly scar slicing through one eye and cheek that gave him the appearance of a cold blooded killer. In reality, Drew was a cold blooded killer. He had climbed to the top of Alexander’s business working as a hired gun. If I didn’t know for a fact that Drew had a hard-core case of ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ complex, I would never have taken him on. Yes, he was a killer, but so was I. Like me, Drew excelled at his job, but it didn’t mean that he liked it. He spent more of his time taking in stray dogs, rescuing cats from trees, and helping those less fortunate than he did looking after himself. His heart was good, and that, combined with his knack for tracking and finding people, made him an asset for Montgomery Securities. Parker was the opposite of Drew. Parker looked like your stereotypical jock, with movie star good looks, blue eyes and a smile that dropped women’s panties so easily even I had been impressed. Parker had not been an assassin, but he was one hell of a conman. He could sell sand in the middle of a desert. There were also few locks in this world that would keep the man out, or in. Samuel, I have yet to meet. Dillon had hired him a couple of months back as our official IT guru. Sam was a much sought after hacker, sick of childish internet pranks and games, and was looking for a respectable way to earn his living. He’d met Dillon at a security conference in New York, and once Dillon had seen the potential in having someone with Sam’s skill set, he offered him a tidy sum of money and a nice apartment over Montgomery Securities, rent free for a year. He was currently living there with Charmaine, his girlfriend of twelve months. Dillon had said she was, and I quote, “a hot piece of ass with blown up tits.�
�� Dillon also assured me that when I met the two of them, I would be just as confused as he was. They were apparently an odd combination. So that was our team. It was a good team, one I had every faith in, one I trusted.

  I parked the car directly out front of The Pit Stop, and we pushed our way into the virtually deserted diner.

  “Well if it isn’t Mr. July and Mr. November.”

  I cringed and I’m sure Dillon did, too. The calendar had been Rebecca’s idea, a way to raise money for Mercy’s Shelter. I didn’t even get a chance to say no. Apparently Dillon had said yes for me while I was away. Everyone else had agreed to it, so I guess saying no would have made me about as popular as shit on the bottom of one’s shoe.

  “Who the hell told you that?” demanded Dillon as we sat at the counter.

  Benny was huge; his large round stomach was contained behind a tight fitting apron that today read, “Big Daddy is on the Grill.” He looked like the Martha Stewart version of Grizzly Adams. Benny tapped his nose. “I’ll never betray my source.”

  I snorted. “It was Ella.” I guessed, and Benny winked.

  “Damn women can’t keep their mouths closed,” Dillon growled from beside me.

  “Then you shouldn’t have agreed to do it. And you damn well shouldn’t have put my hand up to do it.”

  “It’s for a good cause, community spirit and all that.” Dillon waved his hands nonchalantly.

  His argument was poorly delivered, but I couldn’t argue. Mercy’s Shelter was good for the community. There were always women staying there, beaten, broken or just down on their luck. They needed somewhere safe to go to get back on their feet. If it hadn’t have been for Mercy’s Shelter, Ella Munroe and Annie Lonergan might have had a whole different future, one not so fortunate.